


Improv 101

by stellar_dust



Category: Pundit RPF (US)
Genre: Current Events, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-08
Updated: 2007-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellar_dust/pseuds/stellar_dust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon goes unscripted during the 2007 WGA writer's strike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improv 101

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to melannen, lone_hobbit, and smilesawakeyou for beta and squee.

***** Act 1 *****

Jon nervously shuffled his blank pages as the opening music played. He did NOT want to be there - he'd never been good at improvisation, not to mention his moral opposition to performing any kind of valuable services during the strike. But the network had insisted, and his lawyer had informed him he had no choice, so there he was.

Even though he'd much rather be out on the picket lines with his staff.

Or, you know, doing laundry or something.

The music swelled to a finish; Jon put his papers down and turned to face the camera.

"Hi, everybody: this is the Daily Show: I'm Jon Stewart." He leaned forward and gestured to the camera with his pen. "Normally this is the part of the program where I'd say: 'Welcome!' and 'We have got a great show for you tonight!'

"But not today. I'd go so far as to say this will be the _worst show we've ever had_. In fact, just turn to [CNN](http://cnn.com) right now. Anderson Cooper would love to have you. Larry King? I dunno. Whoever."

The view switched to Camera 3 and Jon spun slowly in his chair to face it.

"What, you didn't think I meant it?" He put his face in his hands for a minute, then looked back up, eyes wide. "I appreciate it, people, I really do, but I promise you're going to regret this.

"You see, I wasn't allowed to write anything for tonight. I'm sitting here entirely unprepared. I mean, more so than usual. Anything could happen! ANYTHING! Will there be a guest?" He waved his hands wildly. "We don't know! ... actually, I'm pretty sure we told him not to show up.

"That's right, I'm doing this show completely off-the-cuff. Ad-libbed. No script. No audience, in fact, if you're wondering why it's so quiet here tonight. Can we get a shot of the seats?"

Camera 1 panned over the empty stadium seating, then the VIP box and finally back to Jon.

"We told them two days ago not to bother showing up. There were about ten optimistic souls in the standby line, but we decided ten was even more pitiful than zero, so we sent them away, too.

"I'm not even supposed to _think_ of anything for the show. Ordinarily I'd think of something in advance and then I'd say it - tonight I'm not even allowed to think it ... Ah!" Jon raised one finger and pressed the other hand to his ear. "I'm being told paraphrasing Stephen Colbert constitutes writing. ....Annnnd I'm being told pretending to wear an earpiece _also_ constitutes writing." He turned to face off stage left - kidding, but more than happy to let out some frustration. "Haven't you people ever heard of 'acting'? What _am_ I allowed to do?

"In fact, I shouldn't be touching these things, either." Jon swept his papers from the desk and lobbed his pen in the direction of the sound board, then stood and stomped out of frame.

Three seconds later, he stomped back and sat down. "News. I'm allowed to do the news."

Jon put a finger to his lips. "Um, I think something happened in Pakistan? And there were probably Senate confirmation hearings. Or something. I haven't really been paying attention. Go, um, [look it up](http://news.google.com/news?hl=en&ned=us&q=pakistan&btnG=Search+News) [on the internet](http://news.google.com/news?hl=en&ned=us&ie=UTF-8&q=mukasey&btnG=Search)."

He leaned forward. "The real story today is the writer's strike. So, uh, forgive me for being all serious and 'educational' for a minute - I want you to understand exactly why your favorite shows are disappearing and why this show in particular sucks balls tonight."

"See, the Writer's Guild of America is on strike.

"And this show depends on its writers -- of which I am one. As a writer, I'm pissed that I have to be sitting here right now.

"As host, I'm pissed that there's nothing in the teleprompter. I'm - not good - without a script. I'm only here because _that_ contract still applies, so I have to do a certain number of shows per year. Comedy Central said 'jump,' and I can't get out of at least scuffing my toes in the dirt a little. I did try.

"People have been flooding the studio with calls and emails, asking what you can do to help end this strike quickly and get us back to normal." Jon leaned forward and looked intently into the camera. "Believe me, I understand. The whole situation sucks - it hurts you, it hurts me, it hurts everyone on down to the cameramen, the graphics crew and even the custodial staff. It's _killing_ me not to do the show as usual, knowing that somewhere, the next Larry Craig is eyeing a public restroom - and if we're not back by the primary elections, I'll be first one they find curled up and sobbing on the floor - [Dick Cheney almost got _impeached_](http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bob-cesca/the-impeachment-of-dick-c_b_71575.html) and I can't - but this fight is important. If we don't stand up, right _now_, for what we deserve, we'll be screwing over not only ourselves and our families, but generations of creative people to come. That's more important than bringing the funny. We need to win this.

"So fax the studios. Write letters. [Email Viacom](http://community.livejournal.com/tdstcr_ot/143453.html#cutid1). Tell them you stand with the writers. If you live near New York or LA, come down and join us - you can [find out where](http://www.wga.org/subpage_member.aspx?id=2536) [on the internet](http://www.wgaeast.org/index.php/articles/992?wgra=1). Bring lots of coffee, because it's cold as fuck out there. Hang out with [John Oliver](http://www.nofactzone.net/?p=2571) and Tina Fey. If you're on the west coast, tell [Steve Carell and Ed Helms](http://unitedhollywood.blogspot.com/2007/11/office-down-for-good.html) 'hi' from me. The most important thing you can do, though, is explain to your friends why this matters. Write to your local papers. The mainstream media has been spinning this story in favor of the producers, and too many people won't understand what's really at stake.

"And I suck at explaining without a script." Jon glanced over at the production table. "Can we show [that video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJ55Ir2jCxk)? We can? Great. Roll it. Watch and learn, people - and then the Sucky Show will be back for more - um, sucking."

As the clip played and the commercial break proceeded, Jon wandered off the set in search of David Javerbaum. He'd get him to call the network or something; contract or no, there was no way Jon could keep up this hell for another fifteen minutes.

 

***** Act 2 *****

Jon was tapping his fingers on the desk, wishing for a cigarette, and hoping to God DJ was talking some sense into somebody at the network when the show came back from commercial.

"Hey, we're back. Sorry. Look at it this way: you only have to listen to me go on for five minutes, and then you get to see your favorite Enzyte commercial. ... I **told** you to watch CNN, but do you listen? Of course not. I don't know why I try."

Jon's attention was drawn to a commotion at the studio door, as a familiar figure came bounding down the stairs and across the set.

"What are you doing here? ... Stephen Colbert, everybody," he added, smiling, as though there was anyone watching who wouldn't recognize this man.

"I heard you needed some improv lessons, Jon." Stephen grinned mischievously, settling himself into the chair across from Jon and tossing a copy of the _New York Times_ onto the desk between them.

"I _don't_ need - DJ called you, didn't he? .. **David**!" Jon glared offset at his co-producer, who shrugged and grinned ruefully back.

"Fine." Jon leaned across toward Stephen, speaking quietly. "I'm gonna go with 'no,' Stephen. If I get better at this they'll make me do it more often."

"Suit yourself!" Stephen smiled, leaned back and plunked his feet on the desk.

"So ... you're not in character."

"Yeah, it's against the rules to be that guy on your show. Or mine."

"_That's_ how you got out of -!"

"Right!" Stephen grinned wildly and dropped his feet back to the ground. He put on his Serious Face and leaned forward, resting his left elbow on the desk. "It would undermine the creative integrity of the Colbert Report for me to appear out of character, Jon."

"But not this show. I see how it is. So, uh, what, should I interview you about your run in South Carolina?"

"Hmm, no, thanks, Jon. I'm saving my outrage against the South Carolina Democratic Party Executive Council and its _abject, irresponsible failure_ to restore the democratic process to this nation! ..... um, for more prestigious shows."

"Such as the [Brown-Haired Guy Who's Not Steve Doocy](http://homepage.mac.com/mkoldys/iblog/C168863457/E20071105103548/)?" Jon could barely keep himself from giggling.

"Exactly!" Stephen pointed at him. "You're catching on, Stewart."

"... Right. What are you really doing here, Stephen?"

"Well," Stephen said, "I wasn't busy, considering I successfully negotiated my way out of doing a show tonight - " ("Rub it in," Jon muttered under his breath) " - and I promised a fan a few weeks ago that if the strike went on, I'd read her the _Times_. And there's no better venue than _The Daily Show_ for reading this slanted, liberal rag."

As he spoke, Stephen pulled apart the paper and smoothed out the front page. "Want one?" he asked, offering the other sections to Jon.

"If you're reading I guess I'll take the crossword."

Stephen extricated the style section as Jon gestured for the sound crew to toss back his pen. "Thanks, man."

"Ahem." Stephen cleared his throat, crossed one ankle over his knee, and began to read. "[Today's top story](http://www.nytimes.com/indexes/2007/11/07/todayspaper/index.html): 'Republicans Join Vote to Override Water Bill Veto; Overwhelming Margin; House Action Escalates Conflicts Over Spending' .. okay, boring story, let's see what else we got ... ah: 'Your Ad Here: Web Surprise Hits '08 Race.' Think it's [my facebook group](http://nodak.facebook.com/group.php?gid=7406420086)? I hope it's my facebook group."

With a smile and a shake of his head, Jon filled out the top left box and listened to Stephen read.

 

***** Act 3 *****

When the show returned from its second commercial break, Jon and Stephen were leaning over the desk, heads together, deep in conversation. Stephen noticed the camera first.

"Oh hey, we're back!" He waved while Jon leaned back in his chair. "Jon's having a little trouble with his crossword -"

"I am NOT!" Jon whacked Stephen with the paper.

"OW!" Stephen ducked and rubbed the top of his head. "Let me finish, jeez. ... so if anyone out there knows the answer to 13-across, please call Viacom at [(212) 258-6000](http://jobs.nytimes.com/texis/company?compid=43133b7e57ccb0) where they will be taking your calls live and on the air."

"Oh, okay, _great_ idea. Make sure you tell them Stephen Colbert gave you the number." Jon glared mock daggers at his friend.

"Please do! So, where was I?" Stephen scanned the rest of the paper. "Ah, Op-Ed. Oh, Maureen Dowd, you foxy lady, what do you have for us today?"

Jon, having in fact quite finished the crossword, began spinning slowly around in his chair behind the desk, smirking to himself.

"Oh, Jon, sorry, do you want to read one?"

"No, no - you're doing fine, please, continue." He languidly gestured Stephen forward, still spinning.

Stephen read three more columns before reaching the paper across the desk, stopping Jon's rotation. "Earth to Jon Stewart. Your turn."

"Hmm? Oh." With a quick shake of his head, Jon reached for the paper. "Which one?"

Stephen pointed.

"Ah. 'Pass the Peruvian F.T.A.' ... what the hell does that even mean?" _Ah, hell_, Jon thought, tossing the paper aside. _Improv, right?_ "You know what, Stephen, I'm bored with this. Let's just make out."

Stephen gasped loudly. His eyes twinkled. "But Jon! We can't handle that kind of a ratings coup! Not during a strike!"

"Screw the ratings," Jon growled, pulling Stephen forward by the t-shirt. "Maybe they'll give us our own Big Gay Sitcom."

"Yeah, like we have time to write that shi -"

Jon quite effectively shut him up - but not before turning to the camera, pointing to Stephen, and mouthing the word "UNSCRIPTED!"

As they panned away to commercial, to Jon's eternal glee, _someone_ was on their toes enough to lower the lights _and_ play [the slow-dance version of _Dog On Fire_](http://stellar-dust.katycat.net/fakenews/Daily%20Show%20Theme%20Journeyfied.mp3).

 

***** Coda *****

Jon sat on the desk, Stephen standing between his thighs, their mouths still pressing firmly together, hair mussed, glasses askew, the main lights still down, the slow theme still playing. The camera panned around them both, then zoomed in on the back of Stephen's t-shirt, which (around Jon's suited arms) read: "COMEDY WRITER. PENCILS DOWN =means= PENCILS DOWN." Below the slogan, taped just above the hem and obscuring the seat of his jeans (between Jon's knees), a large sheet of posterboard hung, scrawled in magic marker with the words: "THERE IT WAS: YOUR MOMENT OF ZEN."

The last few chords of the "Colbert Report" theme rang out, the screens faded to black, the credits rolled over AP [footage of the strike](http://www.thereeler.com/images/wga_rat_365.jpg), the lights came up, and with a last flick of his tongue along Jon's teeth, Stephen stepped away from the desk, adjusted his glasses, and pulled the sign from his back.

"So, how was it?"

"I don't know ..." Jon jumped down, eyes scanning the wildly applauding crew - there were John Oliver and Larry Wilmore, back from the picket lines, cat-calling and whistling from the door - ah, and there was DJ, hustling in from his office. "Let's find out."

DJ careened to a halt in front of the pair, incredulous, grinning, shaking his head. "We can't show it," he said. "The WGA won't let us use the video, the _New York Times_ won't let us repurpose entire articles, and ... legal counsel is advising us never, _ever_ to air the last three minutes."

Jon and Stephen grinned at each other as the crew whooped it up. "That's it," DJ said. "They backed down. We're off the air until the strike is over - or _you_ decide to come back without a script."

"Oh, thank God," said Jon, with a deep, relieved sigh. "I never have to go through that again."

"Hey! I think I'm insulted, mister."

Chuckling, Jon lightly punched Stephen in the arm. "You know what I mean, it's the impro -"

But there _was_ just a hint of insecurity in Stephen's eyes, so on impulse, just to make it go away, Jon leaned up and planted another one on him. "Thanks for rescuing me, Stephen."

Stephen grinned again and rubbed their noses together. "Any time, you know that."

"Think if I kiss you at the corporate headquarters, they'll back down on everything else, too?"

"If only! ... We'd be remiss in our duty not to try it, though."

"Hey, get a room!" They looked up to see John, Larry, DJ, and a gaggle of other writers clustered around the desk.

"This means we'll see you two at the picket lines tomorrow?" asked Larry with a smile.

Jon and Stephen shared a glance and turned to face the others. "Absolutely," said Jon.

"You know," mused Stephen, rubbing his chin, "I think we should go buy these fine folks a beer."

The crew went wilder even than before.

"Sounds like a popular idea," Jon noted. "Let's do it."

They hastily shut down the set for the night - they'd do a more thorough job of it in the morning, Jon figured; close down for the long haul - and tumbled raucously out into the city.

"Brilliant," enthused John Oliver, limping, the last out the door. "My dogs are _killin'_ me."


End file.
